


the reveal

by Lindsflea



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Face Reveal, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Overthinking, Romantic Friendship, dream overthinks too much, george is too kind, platonic, quackity punz and karl are barely mentioned lmao, whichever you prefer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindsflea/pseuds/Lindsflea
Summary: Dream is freaking out about his planned face reveal, and George does everything in his power to help out.The only problem is: Dream is locked in a bathroom stall, George is on the other side, and Dream has yet to reveal himself to George.///my first ao3 fic!
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 19
Kudos: 461





	the reveal

The bright yellow hue from the ceiling lights illuminated the entire room in a hazy glow, reflecting upon the faces of excited fans and focused moderators. The room was crowding in by the second, the tickets being sold out and the line growing gradually longer with thousands of people impatiently waiting to see their favorite content creators in real life. Outside of the main room contained multiple meet and greets, setting up shop, littered across the venue and lively music filling the atmosphere, setting the perfect mood for a boisterous event such as this one. 

The staff team was rushing around in an organised mess, trying to make things perfect twenty minutes prior to opening up for business. Never in the years of taking charge of this event had they seen a crowd as large as this one, and there is a very good reason for it.

Dream, perhaps one of the most famous content creators out there, is planning his face reveal at this very event.

Fans of his have been waiting years for this momentous occasion, and no one was planning to miss seeing the insanely talented speedrunner in person for the very first time.

So, with the lively actions around the venue and the childish banter of excited fans, everything seemed perfect and ready to go.

Other than the fact that the guest of honor was nowhere to be seen.

The majority of the content creators who've shown up were already situated at their tables, setting up pens to sign autographs and settling down comfortably with relaxing smiles on their faces.

Members of the Dream SMP were in one of the farthest corners of the entry hall, with multiple tables set up side by side and various merch designs and posters feverishly scattered for decoration. 

Sapnap, Quackity, and Punz all sat there, nervously fidgeting around and sending each other appreciative glances on occasion. They only just arrived and met each other in person just yesterday, and were more than content being in the presence of online friends they've got to know very well over the year. Being one of the largest, and perhaps first major gathering the group has ever been to, they're very relieved to be conquering the jitters of it all together.

However, the other two seats remained empty.

Sapnap arrived with George in the beginning, having just picked him up from the airport mere hours before. His flight had been unluckily delayed and jet lag was definitely taking a toll on him. He disappeared to find some sort of caffeine filled drink to keep himself conscious a while ago and has yet to arrive back. 

Dream, on the other hand, Sapnap has yet to see. 

He knew the man was anxious about his face reveal, having DMing Sapnap about it at ungodly hours in the morning many days prior to today. They abruptly stopped just hours before the present, so Sapnap hoped he didn't chicken out and was arriving momentarily. Being the only one out of his group of Minecraft friends who knows what he looks like, he should've seen him idling around by now. One could only wonder where he is at this point.

"Ay, Sap!" Sapnap shook himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention back on the other two nearby. Quackity was excitedly pointing out a certain Mr Beast channel member heading their way while Punz sat there with a small smile on his face.

_ I'm sure they're fine _ , he thought to himself. He returned his attention back to the now as Karl barreled himself into Sapnap with a tight hug. 

\------

Dream was so not fine. At all.

In fact, he was practically having a panic attack in the middle of the content creator only bathroom stalls. 

He tightened the strings of his hoodie over his head that have been obscuring his face the moment he got here. He didn't even bother to pick up his nametag in the beginning, reality already settling in that thousands of people were going to see his face in under an hour. Not to mention the hundreds of thousands watching from home, with it being broadcasted live and all.

Sniffling and trying his hardest to stifle the incoming trail of tears, he resorted to biting his lip and harshly jabbing his nails into his palms with shaking hands, two very unhealthy habits in which he didn't dwell on their future consequences.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered to himself, voice cracking in between his broken record of curses. 

The only thoughts he's had since he's arrived at this dreaded location was the inevitable resentment he'd receive after revealing his face and the belittling and cancelling that would become the aftermath on Twitter. Though these statements may be far from true, nothing could cleanse his panicked mind.

There are multiple disadvantages from being above average in height whilst trying to hide away in a public restroom. His limbs have already started to ache from being cramped inside this stall for far too long, crouching on the toilet. And knees are far too weak to properly stand up straight either. Irritatingly, he was stuck here. But he wasn't exactly complaining. He'd give in to shying away in a stall for the rest of his days than facing one of his worst fears.

His breathing stopped short and all his movements shockingly subsided as he came to a horrible realisation.

Fuck. The fans. They're counting on him to do this, to show his face to the world.

Dream cared about his fans more than mostly everything. They're the main reason he's gotten so popular on YouTube and why he doesn't have to finish up with college to maintain a stable career. Doing what he loves most whilst keeping a steady income has been the most joyous times in his life, and he owes it all to the incredible support of his fans. He has to give them this. They've been asking for years, and Dream has put it off countless times already. He couldn't do it again.

But here he is, hiding away in a godforsaken loo to do the same thing he's been repeating for years.

"Fuck," he cusses again. The tears abruptly start pouring and he gives in to the Niagara Falls leaking from his eyelids.

In choked sobs and staggered breaths, Dream puts his head in his hands and gives out a pained yet muffled scream.

His body is giving out involuntarily spasms at this point, and his crying becomes painful and faster. The tears relentlessly pour out of his glazed over eyes and wet the collar of his lime merch hoodie. His shoulders shake with every sob, his vision blurs with every sniffle. He can't bring himself to stop, and it only gets worse as he struggles to breathe. Every gasp of air he takes feels like a stab at his lungs, and every movement he makes feels like a punch in his gut. It's overwhelming and unbearable, and he's going to break. 

When Dream has thought about how he was going to die, keeling over and perishing during a mental breakdown in the middle of a dirty toilet stall at his face reveal never crossed his mind. Though, life is definitely unpredictable at times. 

Trapped inside of his own mind and fighting against his involuntary movements, he almost misses the moment the restroom door opens and slams with a loud thud.

Right, he's still in public. There's other content creators who can access this restroom.

Dream can't stop his emotions pooling out of him. He's become a puddle on top of the toilet seat, his insides leaking out and becoming entirely vulnerable to whomever stepped inside the room.

He hears the person turn on the faucet and the rush of water exits its tube. Embarrassingly, Dream lets out a rather loud choked sob. 

The faucet turns off and the area outside becomes deathly quiet.

"Uh?" he hears the other hesitantly question, the voice of a British male. Dream internally freaks out again. It's not Sapnap, the only person he's ever revealed his face to. He's going to have to wait until this guy leaves if he ever wants to make it out alive.

"you alright in there?"

Fuck. Dream knows that voice from anywhere.

He's heard it on a Twitch livestream, speedrunning or messing around on the SMP. In the majority of his videos, screaming maniacally for his aid. Offline and incall together, joking around with friends or discussing their latest video plans. Late at night when neither can sleep, talking about everything and nothing simultaneously or bashfully suggesting to sleep call. Cracking at the edges, vulnerable, over on a private call, seeking mental support or just someone to talk to. His best friend. His rock, someone who's been with him for years and never wants to lose sight of. Someone who he has never shown his face to, because he’s set on the fact that his best friend of several years will drop him right then and there. 

George.

Well, shit. This just made everything a lot more difficult.

Dream’s knuckles rapidly started turning white at how hard he was subconsciously clenching his fists. He could have muttered some form of lame reassurance and sneak out of there into the cold autumn evening if it was anyone else. It was just his luck that outside this very stall door was his best friend, who would definitely stop him from leaving before making sure that he was okay. George was too kind for his own good, and what Dream normally adored about the man he loathed at this moment. 

Neither being able to speak out nor able to speak, Dream stayed lost in his silence.

He heard shuffled movement outside the stall, and was able to spot light grey tennis shoes beneath the door. Dream just about managed to make his next sob barely audible. 

There was a knock. Dream froze and faltered for a split second, then painfully dug his nails into the palms of his hands as he let out another sob. He wasn’t in control here at all, and cursed himself and whatever higher being was up there for being put into this predicament. 

“Hey, uh, it’s okay!” George’s haphazard attempt at reassurance just made Dream’s case worse. Strengthening his grip on his hands, blood started to gingerly trickle from the skin of his palm and paint his arm in a pretty color with an ugly meaning. 

George’s feet awkwardly shuffled around the floor, leaving various scuff marks. He seemed to be fidgeting a lot, something Dream recognised as a sign of him being nervous. 

Dream’s breath caught in his throat as George spoke up again.

“Is there- is there anything I can do to help?”

_ Leave _ , Dream thought to himself,  _ let me fix this mess on my own _ .

Instead of speaking his mind, he choked on the breath he was holding and coughed. His vision was becoming blurry with the cascade of tears that ruthlessly continued pouring down, and an incoming headache threatened to further strengthen the storm inside of his mind.

He could not speak, even if his life depended on it. He couldn’t let his best friend know him as the guy who fell apart at the seams minutes before one of the biggest events of his life inside of an old bathroom stall. He couldn’t step outside that door until George was long gone, and then he would have to pathetically sneak out of the building into the night, leaving his fans disappointed and living up to his legacy as an infamous faceless YouTuber.

Because if he couldn’t show his best friend what he looked like, how was he going to show thousands of strangers who followed his content via the internet?

Dream recalled back to George’s eight hour stream, where they wrote out a “contract” deeming George would say he loved Dream if Dream showed him his face. Despite the fan’s constant begging, despite Dream’s chickening out, despite their mini fight that ensued afterwards, George still said those four heavenly words, reciting them as if they were the climatic final lines to a show stopping play, and abruptly ending the stream afterwards.

Dream had been metaphorically stabbed that day; his own betrayal to George and him still keeping to his end of the deal a sharp impale in his heart. He still feels overwhelming guilt to this day, and even after his plethora of apologies and George’s constant reassurances that followed, he still felt like he betrayed the person he cared about most.

And frankly, he did. The look on George’s face during the stream was unmistakable. He tried his best to mask his disappointment, but it still shone through his eyes as clear as day. To put it simply, it was easy to infer why he turned his facecam off for the remaining moments of the stream.

It was silent for a while between the pair, and if it wasn’t for Sapnap they may have just carried the burden on their shoulders and never spoke about it again. Yes, George forgived Dream and told him it was okay, but it didn’t come from his heart. It came from the need to satisfy the feelings of his best friend and drown in his own. 

Dream didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. Seeing the unfiltered emotion pooling in George’s eyes hurt. It hurt like a thousand embers burning through his heart and devouring his entire being. It hurt while he cried over it hours later, his normally calm demeanour crumbling just from that foolishly tainted contract. It still hurts to this day, months later in the future, the guilt as strong as ever.

He didn’t want to hurt George again. That much was clear. That day was the very first time George was genuinely hurt by something Dream did. They joked around a lot, but it was recognised as light banter between friends.  _ Hurting  _ George was on a whole other different level of jokes. 

But alas, the problem at hand remains. His face reveal. Dream doesn’t even remember how Sapnap managed to pry it out of him, considering how pressed he’s been about it now; it was ten times worse all those years ago. With a hesitant Snapchat sent, there was no turning back. Luckily, Sapnap responded with overwhelming praise and a joking _ damn dude, you’re smokin hot. _

Sapnap has been supportive of him for years, and words cannot begin to comprehend how much he appreciates him. And he knows George deserves this face reveal and so much more. But stepping outside that stall door and being greeted by his kind face deems to be more nerve wracking than revealing to the viewers at this point.

But what’s so different about George, really? The way his face always lights up when Dream joins the call? The way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles? The way his bright grin lights up Dream’s entire soul with a heavenly warmth? The way he blushes nervously when he responds to a dirty joke or a rather odd donation? The way he fidgets around and adjusts his demeanor when Dream regularly flirts with him? The fact that, no matter how Dream looks to George, George will always be a million times better in his own eyes? The thought that Dream is so afraid that George will realise just how terrible he looks compared to him, that he will drop him immediately? It was foolish thinking, really. How after years of friendship, George would replace him just like that? But Dream was never one to think straight whilst his nerves were practically combusting inside of him, especially when it came to George.

Because it always came to George, didn’t it?

Ah shit, George. Standing patiently outside of the bathroom stall, most likely nervous or rather embarrassed for whomever was bawling their eyes out on the other side. Unbeknownst to him, it was none other than his best friend. 

Dream’s hands and arms were littered with drying blood. His eyes were tear stained and his hoodie was damp from the aftermath. His knees were shaky and his breathing was ragged. He was a walking timebomb, ticking and ready to explode the moment he reveals himself to George.

Dream is known for his quick decisions in manhunts and Minecraft videos of the like. Ideas came to him quickly, and they always proved to be beneficial when he got away with something unbelievably spectacular in every recording. This, however, was so easy to overthink. And that’s exactly what he was doing. If he dwelled on it for too long, it would become harder and harder to escape the asylum of his thoughts. He couldn’t keep the erupting volcano of emotions contained or keep up with his confident facade any longer. And what better day to fuck it all up than the day of his so-called “face reveal”?

So with one last falter of his thoughts and a rather brash impulse decision, he braced himself for the impact of what was to follow. 

“G-George-” he helplessly croaked out. It was pitiful, really. The way the name came so smoothly to him, so familiar, yet sounded so pained and distant. 

George must’ve noticed it too, because with the stunning silence that followed it was easy to capture his intake of breath. “Dream?” 

Dream laughed. It was bittersweet and forced, and it hurt. It hurt like hell, to know what was coming. To know that this was how it ended. The hearty jokes and laughs, and the constant pitter patter around his feelings. All coming to an abrupt halt the second he opened this door and revealed his true, broken self. 

“Dream-” His name, repeated, with a notable desperation. 

“George-” The same tone, the same desperation, but for a completely different reason.

It was almost nice. The way their names easily slipped from each other’s mouths, and the tone delicately laced in it for the two of them and the two of them only to hear reciprocated.

It was quiet again, save for the muffled sobs and heavy breathing still coming from Dream.

“I-” he tries, and is interrupted by another heart wrenching sob. He’s acting so pathetic. Online persona be damned, the emotionally distraught Clay is here and it's not a pretty sight to see.

George must’ve picked up on the way he was unhealthily breathing, because suddenly his own breathing increases volume tenfold and breathes in and out in a slow and rhythmic motion. Dream choked back another sob at this, because he was deliberately changing his breathing technique to help Dream out.

Hastily, he reflected George’s motions to his own breathing. Shaky inhales and exhales gradually turned into something more steadfast and normal. He let his eyes flutter closed for a moment while he focused on just his breathing, and started to feel some semblance of peace. He loosened the death grip on his palms and sighed something relieving in between the breathing exercises. 

Internally, Dream thanked George. For putting up with his constant bickering and bullshit for years, and now, when he's cracking behind a door and George is so close yet so far to seeing what he looks like. Externally, he lets out a positive grunt. George chuckles.

"Better?"

Dream nods, then remembers he can't see him. Instead, he lets out another grunt in affirmative.

"Alright, can you talk to me? What happened?"

Oh, how much he wanted to say right now. George's presence in anything makes him so much more calm and at peace than anyone else. He wanted to go on for hours talking to George and George alone, about everything and simultaneously nothing at all. But that wasn't the situation at hand here. And Dream's problems should be none of George's concern; he doesn't want him to be the extra burden on this important day that's probably stressing him out enough already.

Instead, Dream lets out two words. The epicenter of his current problems and the reasoning of the chain of events that led him into this predicament: "face reveal." 

"Ah." George's tone is understanding and empathetic. Of course, George would be one to know exactly how Dream would be feeling about all this. Considering he's heard Dream venting and rants countless times over call it's almost like routine. Funny, how the one thing George has yet to receive from Dream yet he so desperately wants to see is the problem that leads to most of Dream's plundering.

The way they've always communicated has been via Discord, iMessage, or the occasional Snapchatting. They've never met up in real life before, that much is obvious. They tricked the fans a while back into thinking Dream went to visit Wilbur and George in Brighton, but his meetup had been fake and the vlog remains nonexistent. George knew how uncomfortable the man was about revealing himself to anyone in the public eye, given how he rarely steps foot outside his house to collect the groceries anymore, afraid of an outing. So, George does what he does best in these sort of times with his best friend: he sends him a message.

**George:** _hey this is probably so overwhelming for you, so i figured since this has been how we've communicated for years it would work best? :]_

Dream loves George. His sweet, caring, understanding George who knows him like the back of his hand. So with shaking hands, he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his hoodie and shakily types out a reply. 

**Dream:** _ thabk you _

Dream ignores his mistype, figuring there will be a lot more that follows. His fingers are too fidgety right now to type properly.

**George:** _so_

**George:** _ maybe try talking through how you're feeling rn? get your emotions in line _

**Dream:** fyck george, i've been diing that since the second i enteredd this bathroomm

**Dream:** _overtyinking is a bitch_

**George:** _right_

 **George:** _what do you want me to do?_

**George:** _ reassurance, just talk to you, commit arson on the building… _

**George:** _ that last part was a joke … unless? 👀 _

**George** **_:_ ** _ but seriously dream, i'm here for you. name what you need and i'll come in clutch _

Dream lets out a watery laugh. George giggles back, almost like an echo. It almost calms his nerves for a second. God, what did he ever do to deserve him?

**Dream:** _ i need somem major resaurrances rn _

**George:** _of course :]_

Dream started at the three dots that indicated George was typing for what seemed like forever. Normally being one to send his thoughts in multiple texts, this caught Dream off guard a little. Patience is a virtue, however. And the waiting definitely paid off in the long run. 

**George:** _ ok so, i know i definitely don't understand the majority of what you're going through rn, considering i've had my face revealed for years now haha. but, you're literally one of the strongest people i know dream. you've faced (lol faced? get it?) so many challenges during your career as a youtuber and have always come up on top. like, look at you now! almost 25mil and it's only 2021. yeah some people are gonna hate, but they literally hate no matter what for no valid reason(they're probably jealous lmao). no matter what happens out there today, i'll have your back. your devoted fans will have your back, sapnap and the rest of the gang, your family, literally everyone. and ok, i know, how can i be so sure of this? you could be hideously ugly for all i know (for legal reasons that was a joke) but honestly? i'd like to believe that's not the case at all. you always have another surprise or trick up your sleeve so i'm sure you're probably drop dead gorgeous or something, even rn when you're practically dying in the bathroom:] but seriously dream, you're underestimating yourself. people literally simp for your hands dude, if that doesn't scream attraction idk what does. it'll be fineeee, and if not we can ditch this stupid place and go play minecraft or something. i'm behind you 100% dream <3  _

Dream exhales shakily and widens his eyes. Out of the countless scenarios that ran through his head of what George was going to say, he didn’t expect that at all. Nonetheless, he was eternally grateful. He could not begin to fathom the flurry of emotions that rushed through his body after reading that. Rushes of appreciation, guilt, love, and utter joy practically drowned his entire being and pulled himself apart at the seams.

"George!" he exclaimed, pure giddiness laced in his tone. Watery laughter escaped directly after.

"That wasn't too much, wasn't it?" George questioned, sounding uncertain. 

"No, no," Dream rushed to reassure his friend, "that was- that helped a lot. Thank you."

That was the understatement of the century. Dream felt like a thousand pounds were lifted from his shoulders, and the previous burdens were cast away. George's words never failed to help out in the past, and they certainly didn't fail just now. He mentally added that to the infinite amount of reasons to appreciate his best friend.

Feeling a lot more like his normal self, he added on: "You sent the heart at the end too, huh Georgie?"

George laughed sheepishly, and murmured a fond, "Shut up." 

For a moment, Dream felt at peace. It was nice; he could almost forget the current situation and just bask in the comfortable familiarness of banter between him and George. He always seemed to make Dream feel that way. Relaxing in the domesticity of it all and getting drunk on their dynamic, easily letting any other rash thought in the back of his mind slip away.

After another moment, George spoke again, and their restful easiness disintegrated. “You doing better now?” 

Dream took in a sharp intake of breath and nodded, forgetting for a moment George couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he finally mumbled, and was proud to know he wasn’t lying. Not everything automatically turned completely okay, but he was much better than minutes before. For starters, his grip on his poor hands increasingly relaxed and instead he felt his grip to reality come back to place. No more tears escaped his poor eyelids and instead dried up on his face and soaked up his hoodie. He was still shaking a bit, but not as violently. Yeah, he was okay. 

And perhaps to remind himself verbally, he repeated, “yeah, I’m okay.” 

The smile was evident on George’s face the next time he spoke. “Good.” He then paused, and Dream heard a sigh escape the older man. 

“We’re supposed to be in our seats in less than five minutes.” 

_ Fuck.  _

“George,” he muttered, feeling terribly small, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this.”

“That’s okay,” George responded, his tone awfully reassuring. Dream didn’t know if he wanted his sympathy anymore. “we can get out of here, maybe? The fans will understand.”

“Face,” Dream reminded, and winced at how harsh he sounded. George inhaled sharply.

“Right.”

The atmosphere changed, and Dream hated it. He’d rather have his breath be taken away than breathe in whatever this was.

“I understand,” George muttered, “I’ll let you show your face when- when you’re ready.” 

George was trying to mask up his emotions again, Dream knew that much. With the way his mood abruptly changed and the intakes of breath, it was easy to catch on to. His overthinking and constant over analysing of situations led him to this point, and Dream didn’t want to disappoint George yet again like he did oh so many months ago. It hurt; it still hurts, and the pain will bubble up and resurface if he repeats the same mistake again. 

Hurting George was something he’s done one time too many. And he’d be damned if he did it again. 

George is his light in a dark day. His escape from reality after a rough recording session or stream. His best friend, who’s been with him since day one despite only knowing him as a voice behind a screen. George has been the most loyal person he’s ever known, and Dream has been nothing but a freeloader, relying on George every chance he gets and lazily returning the favor with little to no compassion. Though he may be the only person who thinks that point of view on how things were between the two of them, he despised himself for it. 

He couldn’t keep backhanding George like this. George deserved better, and if he wasn’t even going to show him his face after George just practically unburied his grave and resurrected him from the dead, what sort of person, sort of best friend, would he be? 

Eyes wide, pupils dilated, and heart beating a marathon a minute, he mustered up all his courage, and reliance on his legs, to stand up and push the bathroom stall door open. 

Whilst engrossed in his thoughts, George must’ve started leaving. His travel backpack was slung over one of his shoulders and he was a few feet away from the exit door, back turned to Dream. His brown hair was neatly combed over and he was sporting one of his merch hoodies and a pair of pale blue jeans. Dream took a few more moments to look over his best friend in real life before he hugged him from behind, earning a surprised yelp from the brunet.

“Dream?” George asked. Dream’s arms were wrapped around his waist, body pressed against the older and face buried deep in his dark hair. Dream inhaled and visibly relaxed at the scent. it was comforting and familiar, despite them only meeting in person just mere minutes ago. 

“The one and only,” Dream murmured into his hair.

George subconsciously leaned back into his friend’s touch, and Dream barely managed to make out the small smile on his face, cheeks dusted in a pretty pink. His gaze was directed at the floor, however, as if staring anywhere he could visibly see Dream was a crime. 

Reluctantly, Dream brought his arms back to his sides and let George out of his hold. The gasp of cool air that followed stung like a million bees. Compared to the delicate warmth, it was almost unbearable. 

Quietly, so quietly Dream muttered, “You can turn around, y’know.” He remained close to George, inches apart. George stayed stubbornly still, eyes still trained on the ground and head now ducked down. 

“But your face,” George said, as if it wasn’t obvious enough, “I’ll see it.”

“I know.” Dream would not chicken out of this. Not again. 

“Y-you’re okay with that?” Slowly, George moved his head upwards. His same distant gaze still remained. Dream internally beamed at how considerate he was being. 

“Of course. You deserve it, after all.”

Quizzically, George asked, “What do you mean?”

“After all the times I’ve backed out on showing you and all the times you’ve supported me despite it all? Really, it’s the least I could do.”

There was no response to that, but Dream was delighted to see the tips of George’s ears blaze a bright red and the corners of his face stretch into a flustered smile. He’d give anything to see that look again. 

Dream wrapped his arms around George’s waist again. Whether it was to be dramatic about his face reveal or just an excuse to be close to the brunet again, Dream wasn’t too sure. If anyone asked however, he’d say it was the former. 

Hesitantly, Dream leaned in, plastering that fake physique of confidence he always has on camera. He stopped by George’s ear and murmured, “Eyes up Georgie,” well aware of the involuntary shudder that escaped George and the way his lips just barely grazed the other’s ear. 

Slowly, Dream watched as George's eyes trailed up from the bathroom floor, across the walls, and finally level with the top of the door. One swift 180, and George would meet face to face with Dream.

With his pulse practically beating out of his skull, Dream mustered every ounce of courage in his body and steadily turned George around by the waist. 

George had to tilt his chin up the slightest to look at Dream dead in the face, and when he did, his eyes widened to the size of saucers. Dream winced. He looked anywhere except at his best friend, who was studying him like a kid cramming for a last minute exam.

Self-consciously, Dream remembered what he must look like right now. Red rimmed eyes and a tear stained face, mouth slightly parted to try and keep his breathing leveled, stuffy nose and puffy cheeks. 

George must think he's hideous.

Abruptly, he turned away and hid himself in his hoodie. George snapped out of his trance and tried to look back over at Dream, who kept turning away.

"Dream? I-"

"Save it, George. I know. I look terrible, don't I George?" He could feel the dams about to burst again. 

Dream walked over to the bathroom sinks and risked a glance at the mirror. He recoiled in disgust. He really was a mess. 

A hand appeared on his shoulder. The barest ghost of a touch, but Dream still felt it. He let George's hand linger there, as some sort of comfort for the thunderstorm of emotions brewing inside.

"You're not hideous. At all." 

Dream did a double take, and sharply turned his head to face George. Cautiously, Dream scanned his best friend's face for the first time in real life. His pupils were blown wide and sparkling in the bathroom light. His eyes crinkled at the edges from the small grin he was featuring. He had a sharp jawline and practically perfect facial features. He was simply ethereal; a sight for sore eyes and stunningly beautiful. Facecam streams did him no good compared to reality. 

"Really?" Dream asked, breathless. George's smile grew wider as he bashfully turned away, and his red rimmed ears spread their color across his cheekbones.

"Really. You're actually uh- gorgeous." 

Dream forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"Gorgeous?" 

George turned back to him again, his face now fully covered in the tomato read shade, and nodded.

"Yeah. Gorgeous." 

Dream turned to the mirror again, and George followed suit. 

There they were, DreamWasTaken and GeorgeNotFound; standing in front of a public bathroom mirror minutes before the biggest event of their lives. One looking like a hot mess and the other an angel, staring at each other through the mirror and sharing small, fond smiles. 

If Dream were to predict what would happen tonight, it wouldn't have turned out like this at all. He would have no idea what could go down this autumn evening, but something like this never crossed his mind. Falling apart, having George pick back up the pieces, and then face revealing to him, expecting the worst, but instead receiving something he never would've dreamed of.

Dream laughed. It wasn't a watery laugh, nor a hearty one. It was bittersweet; it was full of thankfulness for the present and fear of the future. He looked away from their faces in the mirror and turned a faucet on, cupping the water in his palms to clean off the dry blood.

"Gorgeous, huh?" he finally mustered. He watched George nod in the mirror.

"You're one to talk." 

George sputtered, and turned away lightheartedly scoffing, but smiling as wide as ever. "Dreeeeam!"

"It's true, George. You're Georgeous!~" Dream replied in a singsong voice. He continued scrubbing away at the reminiscence of blood clotted in his palms and rolled up his hoodie sleeves so they wouldn't get wet.

"Sure, sure," George mumbled, trying to dismiss how the compliment turned on him. Dream wouldn't have it. 

"Come on now, Georgie. I'm not wrong!" He finishes cleaning up the blood and splashes some water on his face, effectively clearing the tear and snot stains. 

"Neither am I," George fires back. Dream falters and sarcastically glares at George's now smug look on his face. 

George playfully sticks his tongue out at Dream and turns around to grab some paper towels for him. Thanking him, Dream dries his face and hands and takes one more look at himself in the mirror.

Better, but still hideous in his eyes. Dream sighs and furrows his brows. 

"Hey," George softly starts, "you don't have to reveal today if you're not ready." 

With Dream's begrudging silence, George continues. 

"I'm sure it was difficult enough with just me."

Dream chuckles dryly. "You have no idea." 

George takes a few hesitant steps over to Dream and pulls on his hoodie sleeve, silently beckoning him to look at him. Dream obliges. 

"Thank you," George murmurs, tone kind and eyes fond, "for showing me." 

Dream's eyes soften and he rests his forehead to George's, who leans into the touch. "It was long overdue." 

Dream relishes in this moment as if it was the greatest thing on Earth. Frankly, he doesn't understand why he was so afraid of this. Of course George wouldn't have rejected him. Dream's overthinking just corrupted his mindset and overshadowed what was most important: the strength and loyalty threaded into years of unmistakable friendship.

As Dream engulfed George in another hug, and as something warm and homely blossomed and flurried in a frenzy inside his chest, and as George mumbled words of gentle reassurance, Dream had a gentle feeling that everything would turn out just fine.

Maybe they'd hide out in that bathroom together, maybe Dream would face reveal with George backing him up, or maybe they'd sneak out and hang out with each other for the first time in person with overwhelming giddy joy. 

Whatever it will be, Dream will gladly accept it if George remains by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> my first ao3 fic! i wrote this over a span of like a week to just try and get back into writing, so sorry if it seems all over the place
> 
> comments & kudos are very much appreciated!  
> and, constructive criticism too:)
> 
> reminder if the cc's ever express discomfort about fanfiction, this will be taken down. respect their boundaries!


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